EVERYTHING IS PERFECT THE NEXT morning.
With most of our secrets laid bare to each other, an unspoken change has declared itself between Bazur and I. He likes me, he admitted to it. I like him too, but I have yet to tell him. I want to, but my depth of feeling goes beyond infatuation. What if that scares him? I won’t risk ruining this new relationship between us.
This morning, I woke to find Bazur already awake and staring at me from across the bed. Our fingers were still gripping each other tightly and he squeezed my hand before releasing it so he could go bathe. If I was bolder, I would’ve asked to join him, but would he have welcomed that? Bazur is serious and literal; if he cared for me in that way he would’ve said so, wouldn’t he?
Not for the first time do I wish Elvie was here. She would know exactly how to navigate this relationship and tell me if I was being ridiculous. She’s confident in a way I am not, and I want to kick myself. However, I remind myself this is all new. Bazur and I have plenty of time to figure this out and I don’t have to make any decisions or grandiose declarations right now.
We stayed close to each other on our walk to Myren’s. My shoulder brushes his arm occasionally and I wonder if the subtle touch makes his stomach flutter like it does mine. He smiles down at me softly, telling me about the fight he had with Zarod while on their mission. I am happy to learn all is well between friends once more.
As Bazur drops me off, Myren comes out to retrieve a few seedlings growing on her front porch. She says good morning to us both, clearly noting the shy looks we kept casting each other. Once inside, I hang up my cloak and she asks me if he apologized. I nod, smiling softly, thinking of that leather bag filled with darksky roses back at the house.
“That makes me happy,” Myren says before divvying up the day’s work. I’ve started to use some of my alchemist skills. Just last week I showed Myren how I can turn clay pots, which break easily when she crushes up herbs, into steel ones.
With these new steel bowls, we smash twice as many herbs, and their fresh scents tickles my nose. We need to make more of these salves and elixirs with the first frost coming any day now. The two of us work silently through the morning. When the first batch is made, Myren brings me a cup of tea and we sit in front of the fire.
“Bazur told me the truth about this place. The whole truth,” I say softly. Myren nods smiling into her cup.
“I figured he would. It was only a matter of time.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what was your life like before coming here?”
Myren looks over at me and smiles.
She sets her empty cup of tea down and sighs, sticking her booted feet out toward the fire.
“I was a noblewoman who lived in a large town on the east side of the mountain. When Bazur’s father had been in charge things were different. My family sold fur pelts and we often traded with the orcs who passed through our settlement. One day an orc trader stopped by and I fell in love with him. It didn’t feel instantaneous at the time but now looking back it was. Mating bonds manifest in such interesting ways.”
I nod, recalling how it took Elvie nearly dying for her to acknowledge hers with Arkain.
“My sweet Rozdan was everything a good male ought to be. Strong, kind, compassionate. Most importantly he was everything I wanted. He told the most amazing stories of his travels and I fell more in love with him each time he would share one. The day when he was set to return back to his own village I went with him, leaving behind my social standing and my life as I knew it. We were a pair, just the two of us going on adventures and falling even deeper in love. He was happy when we found out I was pregnant.” Her smile is small, tears shining in her eyes. “Things changed quickly after Vorgak seized power. My Rozdan made his feelings on the new King known. Rozdan wasn’t a general but he had influence over the people in his village. Influence that Vorgak saw my Rozdan as a threat so when he came to our town unannounced—it was, barely a year after Targoc was born…we knew what was going to happen.”
A tear slips from her green eyes and she wipes it away quickly. “It was hard, so hard that some days I didn’t think I could make it without him. But I had our child, I had the proof of our love and I had to live for him.”
“I’m so sorry, Myren,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. She covers my hand with her own.
“Vorgak will get what’s coming to him. Bazur will make sure of that. He vowed it to me when I told him what had happened after he rescued Targoc and I from the Keep.”
I nod, my stomach flipping at her words. “I do have a question though; how have you managed to keep this place a secret? Humans aren’t supposed to live under orc rule, yet we’ve only heard rumors that a few remain here.”
“Vorgak keeps communication between villages weak. The humans that go anywhere else but here don’t live long enough to make much noise. The one’s here are happy to remain safely behind our gates. Still a few traders and poachers that pass through like to twist and tell stories about things they’ve seen. Or rather things they haven’t seen.” Myren raises her dark brows at me. “What were the rumors you heard?”
I swallow. “There was one about a human boy who was found in a raided village. Supposedly he was taken in by the orcs and raised in one of their villages.”
Myren frowns. “We have dozens of boys here that fit that story.”
“Would a boy with that story be found in any of the other villages?” I ask tentatively. Myren narrows her eyes again, but I quickly add, “Bazur mentioned something to me about trying to rescue humans from other towns.”
Myren nods slowly then shrugs. “Possibly, though if he was taken in by one of the other clans, he’s likely dead or close to it.”
I discreetly wipe my palms on my dress. Our conversation is interrupted when the door opens and an older orc male walks in. He’s dressed in simple wool clothes and his skin turning yellow. His long braid is streaked with silver, as is the beard on his face. Using the sleeve of his coat he coughs into it.
A deep, wet cough makes me cringe.
Myren lets out a sigh. “It’s starting already?”
The older orc grins sheepishly. “Afraid so.”
“Dorlac always gets Frost Cough before anyone else. I thought we would have at least a few—” Myren’s head snaps up as she looks over to me. “Kae, did you catalog the mint root?”
I lower my brows. “No, Jessica did all the roots over a week and half ago.”
“Fuck,” Myren says under her breath. “She miscounted them, and we are now woefully understocked. Especially if people are already getting sick.”
Unease makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Where can we get some more? The frost hasn’t come yet so we still have some time,” I say. Myren nods and cups her chin with her hand.
“It’s about a day’s ride up the mountain. It will take a day to collect the amount needed to see us through this winter.” Myren clicks her tongue and sighs. “I’m too old to make the journey and I can’t leave this place unattended.”
I laugh softly. “I can go and collect it for you.”
“Oh, would you? That would be wonderful.” Myren grabs some of the mashed herbs we worked on earlier and rubs them on the older orc’s chest. He sighs in relief before sneezing three times in rapid succession. We’re gonna need a lot of medicine.
“We’ll tell Bazur about this when he comes for you. He’ll need to accompany you.” Myren’s face grows serious. “The journey up the mountain is very dangerous.”
